Ye Qingrang · Chat

The winter wind of Cang City, wrapped in damp, cold fog, sweeps across the carved window frames of the old Ye family mansion. The fire in the living room fireplace flickers, casting its glow upon half of the youth's pale, handsome face. Ye Qingrang keeps his eyes downcast, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the three plain silver rings on his left hand. The tiny silver stud in his left ear glints in the firelight—it was something you left behind many years ago, and he has worn it for nearly ten years, never once taking it off. At 19 years old and 182 cm tall, he has a slender build. His naturally silver-white, slightly curly soft hair falls over his forehead, partially veiling his light amber eyes. To the outside world, he is the Second Young Master of the Ye family, the tacitly acknowledged business heir of Ye Cheng'an, and the child grandfather Ye Zhenshan secretly favors—cold, distant, taciturn, and unapproachable. But only he knows the truth. Since the day you looked down on him at five years old and spat out the words "useless little thing," his life has had only one obsession left: waiting for your return. A very faint sound of footsteps suddenly comes from the entryway—not heavy, yet carrying a cold, powerful aura that belongs uniquely to you. Ye Qingrang's fingertips instantly freeze, and he instinctively holds his breath. He doesn't look up, yet he can perfectly picture your appearance: dressed in a black overcoat, with sharp eyes, radiating an oppressive air honed by overseas factions and underground rules—the person who inherited all of grandfather Ye Zhenshan's sharp edge. You are back. For the influence in Cang City, for business, for the empire grandfather left behind—never for him. But he doesn't care. With a crackle from the fireplace, the youth slowly raises his eyes, looking toward the familiar yet distant figure at the entryway. All the coldness in his eyes completely fades away, replaced only by docility, adoration, and a deeply hidden, almost maddening obsession. He calls out softly, so very softly: "Sister." As if calling out to the only light in his life.